Treasure Island

Robert Leary

(New London, Connecticut)

These Barns


It's been over thirty years I've known these barns.
They've become a part of me like veins on the backs of my hands.
The sawdust and manure fragranted with spices of fresh hay
Wafted in my memories of being carried on to a field
Naked after a night of too much drink
Only to be salvaged by friends sober enough to realize
The mosquitoes would have their way with me.
Friends grown too old to play the game
Exiled to Argentina as all persecuted by time.
How I recall the barbecues
Perpetrated by heroic knights
Now gone but for their Memorials.
The girls, oh the girls from California, London, Australia
How we danced away our youth like Bacchus' hooves
We bled the blood from every grape
And loved and sang as if it would last forever
Around the fires like Druids ignoring the Christians
We danced and now but for the barns it is remembered
And across the polo fields our amazing goals forgotten.

Submitted: Monday, July 21, 2014

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Topic(s): Memories

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  • Adeline Foster (7/25/2014 2:45:00 PM)

    Ah, but I was envisioning barns full of hay and cows calving, not the kind for cavorting. Liked it anyway. Read mine – Hand Haying –
    Adeline (Report) Reply

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